


Demonic Intervention

by purpleeyesandbowties



Series: Addy and the Maitlands [8]
Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Addy Maitland, Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Teenage Rebellion, chalk as a controlled substance in the deetz-maitland household, lydia and addy being siblings, sandworms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 19:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: Twelve-year-old Addy Maitland makes a mistake and decides the best way he can make up for it is to become stronger. A stranger in the Netherworld offers him a chance to do just that. Being a demon is the best solution, right? After all, isn't his own Baddie a demon?





	Demonic Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is the longest addy maitland story yet! (ignoring the fact it took me about 2 months to write.....anyway). please enjoy.   
trigger warnings include bad/abusive moms (juno), manipulation, temporary child endangerment, and non-graphic injuries.

The worst part was that Baddie wasn’t supposed to be with them that day, had told them not to summon him.

No, the worst part was that Addy had taken Lydia to the Netherworld so he was the one at fault when she almost died.

The worst part was that he had tried every trick in his book to keep Lydia safe and when he finally shoved his pride to one side and called Baddie, it was almost too late.

No, the worst part was the feel of Lydia’s blood, sticky and viscous, on his hands

The worst part was seeing Baddie cry.

No, the worst part was how delirious, woozy Lydia babbled about finally seeing her mom again, and, when she woke up, alive and safe, how hard she had sobbed.

The worst part was seeing how upset his parents were, how they couldn’t even bring themselves to punish him for his stupid mistakes.

No, the worst part was that Addy was too weak to keep his family safe.

The worst part was that it had been three whole days and Baddie still refused to talk to him.

—

“Honey,” Mom’s voice said, from the other side of the attic door. Addy’s hand paused on the doorknob. He rested his ear against the wood, breathing as quietly as he could. Eavesdropping was something he usually couldn’t get away with—not with a parent like Baddie, who seemed to know instinctively every naughty thing Addy did the moment before he did it. But Baddie hadn’t so much as looked at him after they got Lydia home, safe as she could be, and so he figured Baddie’s Addy-busting skills were going pretty much unused at the moment.

“You have to talk to him soon,” Mom continued, quietly firm. “It’s eating away at him.”

“I can’t,” Baddie answered, sounding far too tight and fragile. “I’m sorry, Babs, but I can’t. I—I’m still so angry and I don’t want to yell at him. I don’t want him to be scared of me.”

“How much longer?” Dad asked.

“A few more days, maybe. I have to figure out what to say, how to say it. You two are so much better at this shit. I suck at parenting.”

“Don’t say that,” Dad protested. A scoff from Baddie. 

“What, nothing else to say? You know I’m right.”

“Beetlejuice….”

“No. Don’t try. I have to….go away for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

A pause, the sound of fabric rustling lightly. 

“I’ll miss you,” Mom said quietly. Baddie chuckled softly.

“Me too. Alright, enough hugging. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back.”

Addy peaked through the crack in the door to see his parents saying goodbye. Baddie held one of Mom and Dad’s hands each. Slowly, he walked backward, towards the window. He kissed both their outstretched hands and gave a small smile.

“Keep an eye on Addy for me?”

“Of course,” Dad promised.

“Come back safe,” Mom added. Baddie nodded, finally let go of their hands, and slipped out the window.

Silently, Addy crept back downstairs. He closed Lydia’s door behind him with a sigh. Lydia, sitting half propped up by pillows in her bed, said, “Hey, little bug, how’d it go?”

“It didn’t,” Addy said. He decided not to call her out on the nickname. He was too old to be referred to as ‘little’, but he figured he owed her _something _for their recent misadventure. “Bad left.”

Lydia sat up. “Left?!” 

Then she gasped in pain and settled back into the pillows again. One hand curled around her ribs protectively. Addy winced for her.

“Yeah. I overheard him saying goodbye to Mom and Dad.”

“That sucks,” Lydia observed. Addy flopped on her bed. He laced his hands together and put them behind his head.

“I just—I just want someone to yell at me or something. Then maybe it’ll go back to normal. But no, Mom and Dad just keep saying how happy they are that I’m okay. And Baddie doesn’t say anything at all! And you’re not even getting mad at me and I broke your fucking ribs!”

“The sandworm broke my fucking ribs,” Lydia said sternly, putting emphasis on the curse word to let him know it hadn’t escaped her notice. “You’re twelve, okay? Just a kid. You made a mistake. Yeah, okay, it was a bad mistake, but still. A mistake.”

“I still feel shitty about it,” Addy muttered.

“Language,” Lydia said mildly. Addy shot her a look. She stuck her tongue out back at him.

“For real, Lydia, are you okay?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, I hurt a lot, but it’s all physical. I can handle it.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, unwilling to admit he was scared. She understood that he was—he could see it in the way her face softened.

“You’re my little brother. I could never hate you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But it’s what you meant, wasn’t it?”

Addy frowned. “Yeah,” he admitted. She patted the pillow next to her and he crawled up next to her.

“Lie on your tummy.”

“Why?”

A quick eye-roll. “Just do it, okay?”

He lifted his eyebrows but did as he was told. Lydia slapped his back, not putting enough force behind it to hurt, but enough that he sat up.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You did that for me once when you were little. Do you remember?”

Addy scrunched up his nose. “Do I remember hitting you when I was little? Uh, it would easier to list the days I didn’t hit you when I was a kid. I was a little shithead.”

“True,” she conceded. “Well, not more than your average kid. Anyway, this one time, I was really sad about my mom and you rubbed my back. You sucked at it, but you did that for me. That was the first time I realized that you were my brother. Like…not just a kid who lived in my house and shared some parents with me, but _my _brother. My family.”

“Okay….?” Addy said, drawing out the word. Lydia was obviously trying to say _something, _but he wished she would just get to the point already. She put a hand on his head, absentmindedly ruffling his hair.

“That was the day I decided you were_ my_ little shithead and I wasn’t gonna let anything take me away from you. Danger? I would face it. Boneheaded ideas? I had ‘em when I was your age, I get it. Pain? I’ve lived through worse.”

She sighed and sat back against her headboard. She ran a hand through her hair. Addy sat up too, watching her face carefully, trying to decipher the expression he saw there. Regret? Maybe, but also a little grief. Love, too, that he recognized from Mom and Dad and Bad and Uncle Charles and Aunt Delia. And the thing that comes with love, just as tied up in it as happiness: worry. He’d felt it about her when he thought she might die right there in front of him.

“What I’m trying to say, buddy, is that a few broken ribs, assorted mild gashes, and a sprained ankle is nothing compared to what I was prepared to go through to keep you safe. You know, death really isn’t a problem in this household.”

If this was a movie, or a book, or a heartfelt musical, this would be the part where Addy would throw himself into his sister’s arms and weep. He would declare he loved her too, and that he was sorry. It would be _fin, _end scene, and cut; the two of them sitting together, battered, bruised, tear-stained but safe. 

But Addy’s life wasn’t any of those things, strange and unusual as it was. A growl built up in his chest, low and hard, until it burst out of him in a shout. “Just shut up!”

Lydia pulled back, obviously surprised.

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s not supposed to be your job! I’m the born-dead kid! I’m the strong one! I’m the one who is supposed to protect you!”

“But you didn’t,” Lydia said, not unkindly.

“I know! But you’re living and I’m dead, so_ I’m_ the one who takes the risks,_ I’m_ the one who saves you, and_ I’m_ the one who gets hurt. That’s how it’s supposed to be! I’m supposed to be strong!”

“Addy—” Lydia started, but he was out of her room before the word left her mouth. He charged through the wall, counting on his born-dead skills to keep him from destroying the house, like he couldn’t count on them to keep him from destroying everything else. He charged through the house into the basement and went for the emergency stash of chalk. He wasn’t supposed to know where it was. Mom had just re-hidden it from him. But she wasn’t very good at hiding anything, so it only took him a moment to find the waterproof pencil box behind the water heater. Before he could think things through or talk himself out of it, he’d drawn a door, knocked, and stumbled into the spiraling abyss of the Netherworld. The door slammed shut behind him. He sat on the ground, panting, his back against the place where the door used to be. Slowly, his breathing evened out. He sniffed once, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and stood up. Chalk in his pocket and no real destination in mind, he went looking for trouble. Again.

—

He ran into ghosts here and there as he wandered. Some were grotesque, some oddly colored, and some as normal-looking as his mom and dad. He didn’t see any other brightly-colored heads that would indicate someone born dead, but Baddie had said he and Addy were the only ones, so maybe that wasn’t a surprise. Addy surprised himself by wishing it wasn’t true, though. Being special was nice, he supposed, and Baddie always said he was special for more reasons than his juice, but being special was also lonely. Maybe if there was another born-dead kid around, he wouldn’t feel so helpless. Maybe they could teach him how to be strong like Bad was. Then he perked up with a thought—maybe there was some way to find out more about them. Surely, somewhere in the Netherworld, there were files on the people who stayed there. And he thought he knew where to start: Miss Argentina. He didn’t often go to the Netherworld, but whenever he did, he almost always ran into her. She had a knack for finding people—she’d found Lydia, that time when Lydia and Uncle Charles visited. It was before Addy was born, but he’d grown up with that story like a favorite fairytale, and, of all the stories he’d been told, he was glad she was the one real part. Sure enough, it wasn’t that much later when she found him.

“Back again, Addy? And after what you just went through?” she tutted, but she was as happy to see him as he was to see her. He gave her a hug.

“This time, I promise I’ll be careful. Also, I need your help.”

“Aye, Addy, no,” she groaned. “Your baddie would kill me if he knew I was helping you get into more trouble.”

Addy couldn’t help the anger in his voice when he said, “Yeah, well, Baddie’s not here, is he?”

Miss Argentina fixed him with a stern look. “That’s not the polite young man I know, Addison.”

“Sorry. Bad day,” Addy said sheepishly. He scuffed his shoe against the ground. Miss Argentina smiled again and gave him another quick hug. Forgiven, just like that. If only was that easy with Baddie.

“Now, what can I help you with, sweetie?”

—

Miss Argentina had left him in the records room—well, one of them. The dusty plaque on the door said it was B’s, Bi—Bo, flanked on either side by other B doors.

“I hate this place,” Miss Argentina said, standing just clear of the door. “You couldn’t pay me to alphabetize these days. I spent my years of social service stuck in this awful place. Good luck, Addy.”

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Addy said glumly, poking at a cardboard box. It sent up a comical plume of dust and he coughed. Miss A bid him a final goodbye and left the door open a crack. Addy sighed and headed for the back of the room, wishing he’d brought his phone so he could listen to music.

As a sort-of ghost, Addy didn’t technically need sleep, in the way that alive-humans didn’t need technically need sunlight. Like, he did need to sleep, if he wanted to feel better and it sucked if he went months without it, but he sure missed it when he didn’t have it. He didn’t know how long he spent in that room, looking for the born-dead files, but he knew that once he found it, a nap wouldn’t be far behind. Finally, at the bottom of a rotting box, he found a dusty three-ring binder labeled Born-Dead Babies. Eagerly, he threw it open and then groaned out loud. There were maybe a dozen pages inside, and two of them were his and Baddie’s birth/death certificates. Another few were arrest warrants, court summons, and trial dates for Baddie. One page called Born-Dead: A Short Primer told him the things he already knew—the color-change hair, the extra juice, the summoning problem. But nothing helpful, and nothing new. He slammed the binder shut and, consequently, sneezed angrily.

“Need help finding anything?” a voice behind him asked. He whirled around to find someone had snuck up behind him while he was reading. A woman, old, like actually old and not just old like his mom, with wrinkly skin and styled white hair, smiled at him. Her red power suit and matching glasses looked several decades out of style, and her smile was more or less just a baring of teeth. If Baddie was here, he would have said that even a squeaky-clean person could be scuzzy, which is why he didn’t bother showering in the first place. This lady, whoever she was, needed a serious personality wash-up and a little less perfume.

“Uh, no,” Addy said quickly, realizing he’d been silent a little too long while inspecting the stranger. The woman smiled again and managed to make it a little more convincing. With a small grunt of effort, she knelt down next to him.

“I see you’re looking for information on the Born-Dead phenomenon. And with hair like that, I can guess why. What’s your name, child?”

“Addison,” he said cautiously. 

“Well, Addison, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Juno. I think I can help you out.”

—

Beetlejuice spent his days of self-exile in the Netherworld, fighting sandworms. He couldn’t let what happened to Lydia happen again, or, if it did, he needed to be better at saving her. 

Once, when he was growing up in the Netherworld, he’d seen a troupe of dead circus workers, keeping themselves occupied in the nothing of the afterlife by doing their life’s work. There had been a skinny, tall man who spun plates balanced on sticks, wobbling precariously on his arms, hands, and head. They fell after a few seconds. He wasn’t very good at his job, which was why he was dead. Now, years later, Beetlejuice felt a lot like that. Adam, Barbara, Lydia, Addy, himself. So many plates to keep spinning. So many people to keep safe. And he wasn’t the young demon he used to be. Fatherhood had made him the happiest he’d ever been, but it also made him soft, brittle. Just the thought of his partners or his son getting hurt made him freeze up in fear. What good was juice when it couldn’t flow when he needed it to? Honestly, he’d have preferred the other kind of performance anxiety over this.

So. Fighting sandworms. Making it second nature. Practicing different scenarios. Just in case. When Addy was a newborn, Adam planned out every possible way he could get Addy out of the house in case of a fire. Beetlejuice hadn’t understood at the time, but now he did. He probably owed Adam an apology. Speaking of apologies, he needed to have a talk with Addy when he got back. It had been two days since he’d left, which meant it was five days since he’d talked to his son. That, for a parent, was unacceptable, no matter how upset he was. A kid needed love and attention. Just because Beetlejuice never got it didn’t mean it was okay to withhold it from his own kid. He’d learned enough about families from Barbara and Adam to know that. He was ashamed he’d let it get this far.

He slipped off the back of the sandworm and landed with a thud. It had been a willing sparring partner and not too bloodthirsty, and at this point, he felt almost fond of the beast.

“Go on, get,” he said, lightly slapping the sandworm's hide. It slithered away instantly, leaving him alone in the desert. He pulled out a cell phone and dialed. Surprisingly, reception from the Netherworld to the living world was passable bordering on good. The line clicked. Beetlejuice said, “Hey. Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I’m done with my hissy fit. Bring me back, kid. Yup. No, don’t tell him, I don’t want to stress him out or anything. Thanks, Lyds.”

He ended the call and waited for Lydia to summon him back to the house. When he materialized in her room, she was looking much better. She was even standing up, though she had a death grip on the chair-back in front of her.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, going in for a hug.

“Hey, nasty,” she replied, raising a _don’t you dare _eyebrow.

Beetlejuice frowned. He sniffed himself. 

“Fair,” he muttered and shifted into a slightly cleaner suit. It did feel nice not to have so much sand in his hair. “Where’s the other kid?”

She shrugged. “Holed up in his room. He’s been there for the past two days, except for when he sneaks out to the Netherworld.”

“What’s he doing there?” Beetlejuice asked. 

Lydia made an _I-don’t-know _sound. “Teenage rebellion?”

“He’s not a teenager yet. God help me when he is.”

“Well, he’s your pre-teen. Better get in there and have a heartwarming Hollywood moment.”

Beetlejuice blew a breath out through his teeth. “Can’t I go get Adam and Babs first? For emotional support?”

“They’ve already made up with Addy. You haven’t. This is one rodeo you gotta do solo, cowboy.”

“I think I liked it better when you were too injured to make sense,” he muttered. Lydia rolled her eyes, knowing Beetlejuice too well to be offended.

“Fine,” he growled. Lydia let out a sigh of relief and sat down in her chair. He paused.

“Seriously, how are you doing?”

She waved a hand. “Sore, but fine. I’m more worried about Addy, honestly.”

“Me too,” Beetlejuice admitted.

He floated his way down the hall to Addy’s room, not wanting to risk being heard by walking on the ground. If Addy was anything like Beetlejuice was at that age, he would be jumpy as hell and ready to vanish at any given moment. After building his courage up this far, he didn’t want to start from scratch by letting his son escape what was sure to be a painful conversation.

But when he opened Addy’s door, the upcoming conversation was suddenly the furthest thing from his mind.

Addy floated in the middle of the room like a marionette suspended on strings, holding a small, tattered, blood-red book in one hand. His head was thrown back, lolling almost lifelessly and his legs swung slowly back and forth. Sparks shot off him, connecting with the metal clasps on the book and the chalk-sigil drawn roughly on the floor. The only part of his body he seemed to have control over was his left hand. It held a butcher knife inches above his heart.

Horror curdled Beetlejuice’s gut. Something primal and terrifying welled up inside him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even scream. He just moved. He tackled his son mid-air, shoving him out of the chalk circle. The book went flying one way and Addy went the other. Both hit the walls with identical thuds. Addy was back on his feet in seconds and he lunged at the circle. Beetlejuice, just outside the circle’s edge, caught him. 

“Let me go!” Addy yelled, his screamingly red hair standing straight up and his eyes more pupil than iris. _“Let me go!”_

He thrashed in Beetlejuice’s arms, kicking and biting like a little kid. Beetlejuice screwed his eyes shut and held on tighter. Addy could hurt him as much as he wanted to, needed to. Just as long as it kept him from that circle. While Addy screamed, he summoned a bucket of water and splashed it over the circle. As soon as the chalk outlines disappeared, the frantic energy sapped out of Addy. Beetlejuice could feel the drop in juice-level. Addy’s hair faded to a more neutral reddish-brown, his eyes returning to normal. Beetlejuice’s own hair lost a few streaks of white fear, only to be replaced by red anger.

In his arms, Addy went as limp as a ragdoll. “Why did you stop me,” he moaned. Shaking overtook his body, but Beetlejuice couldn’t tell if it was from crying, nerves, or the loss of juice he’d just experienced. 

“Addison, what the _hell _did you think you were doing?” Beetlejuice demanded. He held up a hand. “No, actually, I don’t care _why. _I just need to know _how. _Who gave you that book? Who taught you how to do this?”

Addy swallowed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “There was a lady in the Netherworld. She knew all about born-dead kids.”

“What was her name?”

“Juno,” Addy said, quietly.

There was a moment of terrible silence in which Beetlejuice wasn’t even sure what he was going to do.

“You’re still in trouble,” Beetlejuice said, deathly calm despite the outrageously bright hue his hair had taken on. “But she’s more in trouble than you. Stay here or so help me you will not leave this house for the next _year.”_

He held out his hand. “Chalk. Give it.”

Addy reluctantly pulled the piece of his pocket and handed it over. 

“And the rest.”

Addy grimaced but handed over the pencil box. Beetlejuice tucked it under his arm.

Beetlejuice took Addy’s hand and pulled him from the room. He marched him all the way up the stairs and into the attic. Barbara and Adam looked up from the town model, their casual conversation falling off immediately.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked, seeing the looks on both their faces.

“Your son,” Beetlejuice said grimly, “was trying to turn himself into a demon.”

“He _what?”_

“You heard me.” 

He offered Addy’s arm to Barbara, who took it. “Keep an eye on him while I deal with this. I warned that bitch not to fuck with my family again. She didn’t listen.”

“Who?” Barbara demanded.

“Juno.”

Both Maitlands shot to their feet. _“Juno?” _Adam asked, at the same time that Barbara said, “your _mother? _I thought she was dead!”

“Juno’s your mom?” Addy asked, eyes bugging out. He instantly shrank back, as if finally understanding exactly how badly he had fucked up. In all the horror stories he’d been told about Beetlejuice’s mother, her name had never been spoken.

“Wait, wait,” Barbara said. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Beetlejuice growled low in his throat. “She was the one behind Addy’s kidnapping, back when he was a baby.”

Barbara dropped Addy’s wrist and surged forward to grab Beetlejuice’s lapels.

“Juno did that? And you didn’t _tell us?!”_

“Oh, Beetlejuice,” Adam said softly. “You’ve been carrying that all by yourself, all these years?”

“She could have come back for him and we would have been none the wiser. How could you not tell us!” Barbara shouted.

“We’re your partners, you’re supposed to tell us things like this. You didn’t have to bear this alone,” Adam said, as quiet and calm as Barbara was angry and loud. His eyes carried just as much hurt, though, and it made Beetlejuice’s eyes sting to see his lovers so upset.

“It doesn’t matter,” Beetlejuice snapped. “I did it and now I’m gonna deal with her. For the last time.”

He shoved past his family and pulled the chalk out of his pocket. The door was open before either of the adults could move. Beetlejuice tossed the box of chalk inside and stepped through himself. Just before he was all the way through, he paused and looked back. Adam and Barbara were clinging together, Addy tucked in the small space between them. All three faces were streaked with tears and tight with fear or anger or both. He pressed his lips together to stop himself from saying anything and stepped through. If he could have seen his hair, he would have been embarrassed at how quickly it changed from angry red to the pale, soft pink of love. It was that, more than anything, that convinced Adam and Barbara to let him walk through that door alone.

—

Addy knew his mom and dad didn’t know how to handle this situation. They could handle his diet of bugs, the fluctuations in his juice, and the random summoning disappearances. But this? This was a whole other world that they had no part in. Mom hugged him and Dad checked him for injuries. Addy brushed off questions of ‘why’ and ‘how’ with shrugs and silence. Eventually, they sent him back to his room. He went straight there, not even bothering to stop in Lydia’s room to talk. There was nothing he wanted to talk about. 

Even if he’d tried to answer Mom and Dad’s questions, he wouldn’t have had a good answer for them. Looking back, it had been a stupid thing to do. Knowing who had given him that book, it was even stupider. Baddie’s mom hated him. She’d tried to kill Lydia and Uncle Charles. She was the reason Baddie never went to the Netherworld unless he could help it. And, apparently, Baddie’s mom hated Addy, too. There was no other reason why she would have given the book. She didn’t really care about helping Addy get stronger, or that Addy wanted to protect his family. She just wanted to ruin something that belonged to her son. Feeling stupid and altogether too tired, Addy curled up in bed and pulled the blankets over his head. He cried, just a little, until he felt too wrung out to cry any more. Then he sighed, turned over, and went to sleep. 

When he woke, he could tell he’d been out for a long time. His mouth felt gluey and dry, and his eyes were crusty. Someone had left a bowl of soup and an apple on his bedside table. He gulped down the cold food quickly, feeling much better with something in his stomach. He felt, maybe, it was time to own up to his mistakes.

Mom and Dad were in the attic, as usual, but the atmosphere felt…odd. As soon as they saw him, both parents scooped him up in a hug. Addy squirmed until they put him down again.

“I’m too old for that,” he complained. Mom smiled faintly. 

“We’ll be the judge of that.”

“Is Baddie back yet?” Addy asked. It was the wrong thing to say because Dad’s face crumpled instantly.

“No,” Mom said quietly. “It’s been eight days.”

“We can’t reach him,” Dad added. 

Addy shook his head. “No way. He wouldn’t be gone that long, right? Netherworld time works differently. Maybe it’s only been a few hours for him.”

“Maybe,” Mom said. She put a hand on Addy’s forehead. “I’m sure he’s okay, though.”

“Barbara, if he was okay, we’d be able to get through to him,” Adam whispered. 

“Shush, not in front of Addy,” she whispered back. Addy stiffened up. He pushed away. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” he shouted. Nothing happened. He turned to his parents. “Get Lydia to do it! He doesn’t always hear me.”

Adam shook his head. “She’s tried. Nothing. He’s not answering his cellphone either.”

“Shit,” Addy whispered. It went to show how worried his mom and dad were that they didn’t call him on it. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going after him.”

“Like hell you are, young man,” Dad said.

“He’s my baddie!” Addy protested.

“Yes, and you’re his son,” Dad shot back. “He wouldn’t want you putting yourself in danger for him.”

“Why not? He always puts himself in danger for _me.”_

“That’s what parents do,” Mom said. She touched Addy’s cheek gently. “Not kids.”

“I’m not _just_ a kid. I’m born-dead. I’m strong.”

“Of course you are, baby. But the answer is still no. Beetlejuice is a grown-up ghost. He can handle himself. Just as soon as he can, he’ll be back.”

Addy frowned. Changing his mom’s mind would take more time than he had. He felt, somewhere in his gut, or maybe his juice, that Baddie needed him. He didn’t know how much time he had before it was too late. He hugged Mom, pressing his face into her shoulder like he was a little kid again.

“Is Lydia still here?” he asked. 

“If you go now, you might be able to catch her before she leaves.”

Addy nodded, avoiding eye contact, and ran down the attic steps. Lydia was just zipping up her suitcase when Addy burst into her room. He spared a moment to thank the universe at large that she was well enough to be heading back to her own house, and that she was healthy enough to pack up her own stuff.

“Is it true Baddie isn’t answering?” he asked. Lydia, face drawn and pale, nodded.

“I’m so sorry, little bug.”

“If you were really sorry, you’d give me some chalk,” Addy said. Lydia gave him a humorless smile and withdrew a small cigarette case from her pocket.

“If Delia asks, I definitely smoke. It was the only way to sneak chalk past the Maitlands. They went on a chalk-purge as soon as you were asleep. Not a piece left in the house.”

Just before opening the case, she stopped. “Just promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Addy nodded. Lydia opened the case and took out one slim piece of chalk, hidden among untouched cigarettes.

“Don’t make me regret this, you little shit,” she said, holding it out. 

He took it and endured a hug and one more warning that she’d come after him if she had to. She clicked off the light, picked up her suitcase, and left Addy alone in her room. Her closet had wood paneling and a sliding door—a perfect place for a secret Netherworld door. Before he drew it, though, he crept back to his room. The red book sat in the far corner of the room, its front cover half-hanging off. He looked at it for a long moment, then carefully picked up and tucked it in his back pocket. Just in case. 

—

Baddie had been trying to teach Addy how to track the scent of power. It felt weird, like a tingle in his nose, and most of the time he was wrong. But as soon as he stepped through the Netherworld door, he felt a zing down his spine. Power, lots of it, crackled in the air, and he could tell where it was coming from. Not only that, he could tell who it belonged to. It smelled just like Baddie’s juice, but artificially floral. Lighter but not any weaker. He had smelled traces of it on the book. Juno. The woman who had tried to break his family apart and who was, apparently, his grandmother. He followed his nose to a large, gaudy house firmly behind a wrought-iron fence. Thankfully, barriers were never a problem for Addy—he just took a running start towards the fence. It must have been infused with some sort of magic, because he burst through it like a paper door, rather than passing through it, untouched. It didn’t hurt (too much) and he made it through, so he counted that as a success. The house was similarly easy to get into. Learning from the fence incident, he picked a window that already looked broken to go through and come out on the other side with just a few scratches. Inside, he stuck to the shadows and quiet parts of the house. Maybe he could find Baddie without ever having to bump into his grandmother. It took all his skill in stealth to creep through the halls of the large, winding house to the center. He pushed open the door to the cellar and almost blew it by gasping out loud. Baddie was in the middle of the room, slumped against the bars of a metal cage. Sigils not unlike the ones from the red book covered the floor, but they were painted on rather than drawn in chalk. Baddie had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in a restless sleep. He looked awful. There were twin trails of dried blood coming from his nose, and another rivet of blood, more fresh, sluggishly sliding down his cheek from his temple. His skin around his eyes was red and puffy. His face was lined like he’d aged twenty years in just a few days. Most jarring of all was his hair—it was plain brown, no color at all, hanging limply around his face. Addy spent so long examining Baddie that he almost missed the sounds of footsteps behind him. He darted out into the room proper, looking wildly around for a place to hide. Baddie woke with a small snort. 

“Addy?” he asked, his voice rusty. Addy put a finger to his lips and squeezed himself into the tiny space between two large wooden casks. He’d just gotten settled when Juno stepped into the room.

“Lawrence,” she said crisply. “How are you feeling today?”

Baddie spat a gob of spit at her. It didn’t make its mark. Juno rolled her eyes. “Alright, another day, then. Eventually, you’ll get tired of resisting me. You know you can’t handle that little born-dead kid. It’s not like he loves you—he spent the whole time I talked to him complaining about you. He thinks you hate him. Too bad you’ll never be able to tell him otherwise.”

Rage forced its way out of Addy’s chest and he just barely kept himself from shouting by biting the heel of his hand. Juno must have heard his strangled yell because she walked briskly over to his hiding place. Cold fingers wrapped around his wrist, biting deep enough to bruise, and she yanked him out. She didn’t bother to say anything clever or threatening. She just opened the door to Baddie’s cage and shoved him roughly in. Baddie had his arms out to break Addy’s fall. He gathered Addy’s flailing limbs close to himself and hugged him fiercely.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled. Juno scoffed.

“Even if you don’t need food, your spawn might. See you tomorrow, Lawrence. Maybe then you’ll be willing to cooperate.”

Baddie didn’t answer. Addy pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Baddie’s middle. He hid his face in Baddie’s shirt so Juno wouldn’t be able to see him cry. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Addy let out a gasping cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbled. “I got Lydia hurt and then I made you mad and I just wanted to be stronger and then you were _gone _and I didn’t know what to do! I’m sorry, Baddie!”

“Hey, hey,” Baddie said softly. He brushed a tear away from Addy’s cheek. “It’s okay, little bug. You didn’t do—well, you did do _some_ things wrong, but it’s okay. I’m here, okay?”

“Okay,” Addy managed. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m mad at myself, mostly. I should have told your parents about Juno and I should have trained you more. I should have listened when you said you wanted to explore the Netherworld alone. I should have come with you instead of sending Lydia. And…I should have told you the truth about being a demon.”

“The truth?”

Baddie nodded, finally releasing Addy. “I was ashamed. I always told you the best parts of being a demon and left out the bad parts, because I didn’t want to you know what a huge mistake I made. I should have known better.”

“I thought being a demon would make me strong, like you,” Addy admitted. “I just wanted to be strong. To protect Lydia and Mom and Dad and everyone else, just like you.”

Baddie chuckled. “Do you know why I protect Lydia and Mom and Dad? Because I love them. And I protect you because I love you, too.”

“I know,” Addy said, a little confused. “You tell us that sometimes, and even when you don’t say it, I can tell. It turns your hair pink.”

He glanced again at Baddie’s hair, which was still no special color at all. Baddie said, “When I was a demon, I was so much stronger. I had all kinds of juice, more than one ghost would ever need. But I couldn’t love. So I didn’t care about anyone, or protect anyone. I couldn’t feel….anything.”

“Not even for Mom and Dad?” Addy asked incredulously.

He’d learned what love was when he was little, from watching his parents. They were sitting on the couch, talking quietly when they thought he was asleep. He’d crept out of his bed, wanting another bedtime story, but stopped before entering the attic. Lydia knelt next to him and pulled him into her lap. They both peered through the crack in the door.

“Look,” she had whispered. “You don’t see that every day.”

“Mommy talking to Daddy and Baddie?” Addy had asked. It didn’t seem too unusual to him—he saw that all the time. Lydia shook her head, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “No. Love. You don’t see love like that every day.”

As she spoke, Baddie had leaned his head against Daddy’s shoulder. Daddy stroked his hand through Baddie’s hair without seeming to notice. Baddie had Mommy’s hand in his and his thumb rubbed slowly across the back of her hand. All the while, none of the three looked away or stopped talking. It was as if they had to touch each other or risk falling apart. The low murmur of voices swept through the room, and while Addy couldn’t tell what they said, he knew it was something happy. Lydia kissed the side of his head.

“You’re lucky, kiddo. You’re going to walk into the world already knowing what love looks like. You won’t have to stumble around, trying to find it, like the rest of us.”

With that, Lydia had scooped him up and knocked on the door. 

“Oh, Lydia!” Daddy said happily. 

“Addy wants another bedtime cuddle,” Lydia had said. It hadn’t been exactly what Addy was after, but it was close enough. His parents made room for both him and Lydia, allowing them to join their little circle of warmth. That night had stayed in his mind, years later. Every time a book or a tv show mentioned love, he compared it to that moment. Nothing he’d come ever across even came close.

Addy shook off the memory. “But you love them,” he protested. Baddie not loving his mom and dad was like claiming the sky was red or seeing Lydia wear pastels. 

“I do now. And it’s all thanks to your sister. When she killed me, I was a ghost for the first time, not born-dead and not a demon. I only lived for a few seconds, but it allowed me to love again.”

Addy took a horrified breath. “If I had become a demon….”

“You would have lost your ability to love,” Baddie finished heavily. Addy squeezed his own arms close to his body.

“Thanks for stopping me.”

“Hey, that’s my job as your baddie. I keep you safe.”

“Who’s gonna keep us safe now?” Addy said miserably. Baddie’s chest puffed up.

“Me, obviously. I’m still your baddie, even if I don’t have my juice.”

Addy sat up and frowned. “You don’t have any juice? At all?”

“No….why, do you?” Baddie asked slowly. Addy closed his eyes. The cage was doing something to block his power, but it hadn’t taken everything from him. He managed to manifest a shadowy copy of himself. It only lasted a few seconds, but Baddie’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Thank god for freaky born-dead juice,” he mumbled. “Okay, buddy, save up that juice. We’re gonna….do something with it.”

“What?”

“Still working on that part,” Baddie admitted. He sat, cross-legged, on the ground. “It’s good to see you again, Addy. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Addy said. He sat down, too, then grimaced and pulled the red book out of his back pocket. He tossed it on the ground and settled back down, much more comfortable. Baddie’s eyes got wide.

“I’m not gonna use it!” Addy said defensively. Baddie shook his head. 

“Yeah, no, I know you’re not a dipshit. But now I know how we’re gonna get outta here.”

“Really? How?”

Baddie got a mischievous look in his eye. “You ready to put those theatre classes Mom enrolled you in to use?”

—

It took a few hours to work out the details and Addy had to dedicate another few to building up his juice. But eventually, he nodded nervously to Baddie.

“Okay.”

“Then get ready, kid.”

“Wait,” Addy said. He ran over and threw his arms around him again. “I love you, Baddie.”

Baddie knelt down and hugged him back, tight. “I love you, too, Addison.” He let go and straightened up. “Now, let’s kick an old woman’s ass.”

“Let’s do it,” Addy agreed. He took his place in the chalk circle he and Baddie had drawn. There were enough mistakes in it to render it useless, but Juno didn’t need to know that. He readied himself with a few deep breaths and nodded at Baddie. Baddie took a deep breath of his own and _screamed, _a high-pitched wail that sounded eerily like a twelve-year-old boy in pain. Addy floated himself a few feet into the air, letting his body go limp. He manifested crackles of electricity that shot around the small cage and bounced off the red book’s cover. The blood soaking through his shirt came from a surface-level cut on his chest. It had been bleeding for about half an hour, so there would be enough to be believable. Footsteps clattered down the stairs and Baddie nodded at Addy.

“Do it now,” he said quietly. Just as the door swung open, Addy hit Baddie with one of the fake streaks of electricity. Baddie went down hard, smashing his already-hurt face against the bars. Addy hid his wince. The electricity wound down, slowly, and Addy lowered himself to the ground. He planted his feet solidly. He deliberately leaned down and picked up the red book. When he looked at Juno, who was clearly perplexed, he made his eyes flash red with implied power. Though he was shaking with exhaustion and nerves, he forced his feet to be steady as he walked towards the door. Baddie had picked the lock with one of Addy’s bobby-pins, so it was no trouble to push it open with a tiny flash meant to insinuate he’d used juice for it. As soon as he was outside the cage, he puffed up again. The low-level headache he’d been feeling vanished instantly and he had a lot more juice at his disposal. Even better. 

Evenly, he said, “Grandmother. It’s been too long.”

“Too long?” she asked, eyes narrowed. “I left you in there a few hours ago.”

“I meant I’ve spent too long with him. Too long away from the Netherworld, tied down to weak ghosts who willingly stay weak.”

He met her eyes and said, “When you gave me that book, you said you could show me how to control true power. I’ve thought about it and decided to take you up on it. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“I don’t believe you,” Juno said. “How can I be sure you aren’t lying?”

Addy shrugged. “I could exorcize Beetlejuice if that would make you feel better.”

Juno almost looked impressed. “I do believe that _would _make me feel better. Do you know the incantation?”

Addy shook his head. “My education has been….lacking. They tried to keep me ignorant.” 

Juno pursed her lips and grabbed the red book out of Addy’s hands. She flipped through the pages quickly.

“It’s right here,” she said, handing it back. 

Addy scoffed. “I could have gotten rid of him hours ago? Whatever, let’s just do it.” 

He skimmed over the words quickly, making sure they were what he expected. He paused. “It says ‘mother’ here, not ‘father’ or ‘parent’. Will it still work?”

“Yes,” Juno said firmly. “It’s about the spirit of the thing. You just have to whole-heartedly mean it for it to work.”

Addy nodded, smiling savagely. “I can do that.”

He cleared his throat dramatically and planted his foot on the ground with an audible _thump. _

_—_

Behind Juno, Beetlejuice, still feigning unconsciousness, counted to three. Then he threw his voice to Addy’s general location, and, in Addy’s voice, recited, 

“Shade maternal, fate infernal, I summon thee with Saturn’s breath. Mother nearest, heart held dearest, rise and be released from death!”

Juno might have caught on to what they were doing—Addy’s lip-syncing wasn’t perfect. But by the time she’d noticed, it was too late. Juno, Beetlejuice’s “mother dearest”, screeched in pain as the exorcism overtook her. The force of it pinned her to the wall. As much as he’d have liked to, Beetlejuice didn’t bother sticking around to watch the light show. He stumbled out of the cage and caught Addy up in a quick hug. The hug, plus the release from whatever the cage had done to his juice, filled him with a surge of energy. 

“Bravo, kid. You’ll make it to Broadway yet.”

“Who cares about Broadway, I just want to go home!” Addy said gleefully. He blew a raspberry in Juno’s direction. They drew a door and left the screaming, cursing Juno behind. As the door slammed behind then, Beetlejuice felt a rush of satisfaction—his family would finally be free of her.

—

Addy was grounded for a month, but that was pretty fair, actually. His parents moved his bed into the attic so they could keep an eye on him, which was less fair. Lydia got yelled at and Delia took her cigarette case, even though Lydia insisted the case was just for chalk and she didn’t actually smoke. Baddie took him to the Netherworld to train up, fight sandworms, and hear more stories about his time as a demon. The little red book soaked in a bathtub of holy water for a week and then Addy buried it in a block of concrete, which was then dropped into a river. Addy’s thirteenth birthday passed a few days after his grounding was lifted, and, as a birthday gift to his parents, he promised there would be absolutely no more teenage rebellion in his future.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sidras-tak on tumblr or KitS #4004 on discord. come chat! i love talking about beetlelands and addy! thanks for reading <3


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